


Kingdom Lights

by fantasysorceress



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Magic, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9691961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasysorceress/pseuds/fantasysorceress
Summary: House Allen, which has ruled over Central Kingdom for centuries, was nearly obliterated when King Henry Allen was betrayed by his trusted advisor. Unbeknownst to most, the young prince Bartholomew survived the coup and was sheltered by the loyal House West. After keeping his true identity a secret for over a decade, an accident unlocks Bartholomew’s dormant magic and leaves him determined to reclaim his rightful kingdom. Allying with a group of bandits, a masked fugitive and a faerie warrior, he sets out on a journey that will shape the future of the kingdom forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What do you get if you mix The Flash, a medieval setting, and a bunch of overdone fantasy cliches? This fic, apparently, and once I got the idea I couldn't resist writing it. Hopefully you enjoy it too :)
> 
> Title is from 'Long Live' by Taylor Swift.

 

“And the prince stabbed the dragon through the heart, killing the beast in one swift blow!”

Barry snatched up the carved prince figurine and used its tiny wooden sword to poke the toy dragon’s chest. Letting out a triumphant yell, he knocked the dragon aside, sending it skittering into the moonlight streaming in through his chamber window.

The toys had been a gift from his parents for his seventh birthday four years ago, after he’d developed an inordinate interest in the stories of his ancestors. Barry could never tell whether his parents were exaggerating the heroic deeds they supposedly accomplished, but they always left a certain thrill under his skin and inspired him to make up his own stories.

“The whole kingdom cheered as he embraced the freed princess,” he continued, picking up the tiny doll near his feet and pressing it to the prince. “The prince became the new king, and everyone lived happily ever –”

He broke off as a long, drawn-out shriek echoed throughout the castle.

Barry froze for a second before dropping his toys on his bed and tiptoeing over to his closed door. Silently pulling it open, he cautiously stuck his head outside and scanned the corridor. The guards that patrolled the halls were missing, presumably having gone to locate the source of the scream, and the torches that lined the stone walls had been snuffed out. The lack of the usual warm glow left the hall dark and cold. Barry shivered as a strong breeze filtered in through an open window and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Your highness!”

Barry jumped, his hand instinctively going to the small pocketknife his father had insisted he always keep in his pocket, until his mind registered the familiar voice and he rushed towards the person who’d hailed him.

“Joe, what’s happening?” he asked, clutching the man’s uniform jacket and looking up at him desperately. “I heard someone scream, and all the guards are gone.”

Joe West, the captain of his father’s kingsguard, gently disentangled himself from Barry’s grip and knelt down to look him in the eye. “Prince Bartholomew, I need you to be very brave, okay?”

Barry frowned, catching the hint of dread and fear beneath Joe’s calm façade, but nodded slowly.

Joe exhaled quietly. “The castle is under attack,” he said. “Do you remember the secret passage in the kitchens that leads to your mother’s favourite garden?”

“The one with the red roses,” Barry recalled. “Yes, I do. But who’s attacking us?”

“I don’t know, your highness, but that’s not important right now,” Joe said urgently. “You need to get to the kitchens, take the passage, and hide in the gardens. Wait for me there.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’m going to find your parents first. I’m sworn to protect them as well.” Joe glanced back as another shout reverberated through the castle, then refocused his attention on Barry. “If I’m not at the garden in an hour, leave without me.”

“But –”

“Run to my house. You know where it is. Iris and Wallace will let you in. Tell them you need to hide.”

“Joe –”

“There’s no time for questions, your highness. Now, _run!_ ”

Swallowing hard, Barry whirled around and scampered down the hall. The kitchens were on the third floor, two levels below his bedroom, and the nearest stairwell was in the north wing several halls away. He raced down the empty corridors, the darkness forcing him to rely on his memories of growing up in the castle for eleven years to navigate the maze of halls.

He eventually reached the stairs and ran down the steps, his slippers muffling the sound of his footsteps on the hard floor. At the third floor, he swung around the corner in the direction of the kitchens and immediately stumbled over a large object. Barry frowned and peered at what he’d tripped over, bending down and squinting his eyes.

The stench of blood hit his nose just as he made out the outline of the corpse lying on the floor. Barry recoiled instantly, but the image of the guard’s bloodied armour and glassy eyes staring at nothing had already been seared into his mind. Stomach churning, he darted away before he threw up on the spot and continued heading towards the kitchens.

His days spent sneaking into the kitchen to steal extra biscuits had paid off. He was able to find the entryway without difficulty despite his lack of vision. Slipping inside the room, he glanced around the large interior and spotted the blank stretch of stone wall behind the cauldron dangling from the ceiling. King Henry had showed him the entrance to the tunnel and indicated exactly which brick he needed to pull to open the hidden door, but Barry hadn’t been paying his father much attention that day. He’d have to search the wall brick by brick.

He grimaced and walked towards the wall, prepared to run his hands over the frigid wall, but stopped when he heard voices coming from the corridor he’d just left. Voices coming in _his_ direction.

“Have you searched this hall yet?”

“We swept it once, but someone may have doubled back this way, sir. Shall we search it again?”

“Yes. Check the kitchens and stairwell.”

Panicking, Barry looked around wildly, his eyes landing on the rickety table in the corner. He quickly scrambled underneath it just as several pairs of boots clomped into the kitchen. A flickering orange light from a torch illuminated the room like a beacon, casting the soldiers’ long shadows over the dusty floor. Barry shrank back as the person holding the torch strode dangerously close the the table he was hiding under.

“See anything?”

There was the sound of several cupboards being slammed open, wine bottles kicked aside and shattering into pieces, the iron clang of the cauldron falling to the ground. “Nothing, sir.”

“Hmm.” The torch bearer walked away from Barry’s hiding spot, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Move on to the stairs, and if no one’s there, the upper floors. Skip the chambers. Thawne’s already checked them and dealt with the queen, but he informed me that the king and the little prince weren’t in their rooms.”

Barry’s eyes widened, and he quickly covered his mouth to muffle his startled gasp.

“We must hurry,” the torchbearer added, having no idea that he’d just fractured Barry’s world. “Thawne wants them all dead before dawn.”

The light faded as the soldiers marched out of the kitchens. Barry waited until the sound of their footsteps dwindled away to nothing before crawling out from under the table. His mind was attempting to process the torch bearer’s words, but it kept faltering over the words _dealt with the queen_.

Thawne betraying his family he could understand. His eyes were too bright, his smile too wide, his bearing too fake. He’d always treated Barry like an inferior, even after he’d grown up enough to understand when he was being looked down on. King Henry had hired him as his royal advisor because he was clever, shrewd, and brilliant at negotiating with the heads of other kingdoms, but Barry had never liked him.

What he couldn’t comprehend was the sudden revelation that Thawne had murdered his mother. Queen Nora was full of life. He’d seen her less than an hour ago, when she’d chided him to go to bed but still left his favourite biscuits on his nightstand. She couldn’t be dead. Perhaps Thawne had lied, and he’d only told the soldier he’d murdered the queen to encourage his allies’ bloodlust.

Barry pushed aside all his thoughts relating to his family and, concentrating on Joe’s instructions, approached the blank wall. The overturned cauldron had splashed leftover soup onto the stones, and he winced as he carefully tugged at each brick in search of the secret door and the cold liquid seeped into his fingers.

Finally, he pulled at the brick on the far left and heard the _snick_ of the tumblers falling into place. He wrenched hard enough to twist the brick and pushed with all his strength. With a scraping rasp too loud for Barry’s comfort, the camouflaged door opened.

The sight of the pitch-black tunnel with sewage dripping from the ceiling and rats creeping along the floor, coupled with his nightmare situation, was almost enough to send Barry running back to his chambers to await whatever fate Thawne dealt to him. Almost.

But Joe’s parting words rang in his mind: “ _Prince, Bartholomew, I need you to be very brave, okay?_ ”

Yes, Barry could do that. He could be brave. He was Prince Bartholomew, heir to Central Kingdom, and he would make his parents proud of him when Joe found them and they all reunited outside the castle.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the rats and into the passage, pulling the door shut behind him. He was momentarily grateful that there weren’t any twists or turns he’d needed to memorize since the tunnel followed a straight path, but his gratitude soon vanished as he continued to step what were likely puddles of water mixed with rat feces and his slippers grew damp and uncomfortable.

After walking for several minutes, he reached the exit. A thick shrubbery bush hid the wide gap in the stones from prying eyes, and Barry batted the branches aside to escape into the garden his mother loved so much.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited the place. Queen Nora had liked to take him there when he was a younger and they’d stroll around the garden hand-in-hand, picking the prettiest flowers and exclaiming over the tiny woodland animals that ventured inside. But as he’d aged, Barry had started spending less time with his mother outside and more time with his father inside, preferring to learn swordplay and politics over flowers and sewing. From what he recalled, however, the garden hadn’t changed much. Red rosebushes still comprised the majority of the plants, dotted through with white peonies and surrounded by pale pink lilies.

In the full moon, the water droplets on the plants’ leaves glittered like diamonds. Barry wondered if his mother had watered the plants that night before retiring to her chambers. He knew she preferred to tend to the plants herself rather than relying completely on their employed gardeners. She’d told him it was because she liked knowing she’d played a part in helping the flowers grow beautiful and strong.

The shrubbery rustled behind him and, for the second time that night, Barry spun around and relaxed at the sight of Joe.

“You’re alive!” Barry exclaimed. He took a step forward, trying to peer into the darkness behind the captain. “Are my parents with you?”

Joe’s relieved expression at seeing Barry unharmed crumpled at his question.

“No,” said Barry. For once, he wished he weren’t so skilled at reading faces. “ _No._ Where are they?”

“Your highness,” Joe said, barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry…I was too late. Both of them were already –”

“ _No_ ,” Barry repeated. Perhaps if he repeated the word enough times, it would change the horrible truth that had already begun to sink in his stomach like a stone too heavy for him to carry. “They can’t – they’re not – we need to go back for them!”

“We can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

As if to emphasize the captain’s point, the sound of drums began to beat from somewhere inside the castle, loud enough to be easily audible from their place in the gardens. Barry dimly remembered his father teaching him the significance behind the various drums and rhythms.

“Tambours. Always played during a great victory or conquest,” said Joe, as if he’d read Barry’s mind. “Your highness, we have to go.”

“But my parents –”

Joe bent down, grabbing Barry’s shoulders. “They’re dead, Bartholomew!” he insisted. “And if we don’t leave the castle grounds soon, we will be too!”

Barry stilled, then he sniffed quietly and broke down against Joe’s shoulder. Joe allowed him to cry on his kingsguard uniform, hoisting Barry into his arms and running away from the ransacked castle, into the safety of the village streets. Many of the townspeople had heard the commotion coming from the castle and had wandered outside to witness the coup for themselves. Joe and Barry easily blended in with the crowd.  
Fortunately, it was too dark for anyone to make out Joe’s lavish attire or Barry’s silk pajamas, and they weren’t the only ones fleeing the royal grounds. Servants and guards alike were running from the scene, babbling about Thawne leading an army into the castle and slaughtering everyone inside. Whenever he or his parents were mentioned, Barry tuned them out and focused on subduing his ragged sobs.

Barry eventually raised his head from Joe’s shoulder, wiping the tears from his eyes, and looked up at the castle. Amidst the background of stars and darkness, it appeared peaceful. If he couldn’t still hear the screams and steel striking steel from where they were, he might have even believed it. That maybe he’d dreamed everything, and he would wake up in the morning with his parents smiling by his bedside.

“Your highness,” Joe murmured, tilting his head to speak in Barry’s ear, “don’t look back. It won’t make you feel any better.”

Barry wordlessly shook his head, knowing Joe couldn’t see it, and continued watching his castle grow smaller in the distance as the captain carried him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr!](https://fantasysorceress.tumblr.com)


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